A Shrine by Any Other Name A Lester Santos Story
by Alfonsina.d
Summary: This was written and lost long ago for a plum board challenge.  It is an original Alf/Kat production staring our favorite MM, Lester.  Hoping you enjoy this little one shot.


_Disclaimers: JE keeps the profits, but Lester keeps me happy. (Lester is one of my favorite MM … he is why being a TART is so much fun.)_

_A/N: A couple of years ago, this was a challenge for a Plum Board and written with a friend (Bluzkat needs to take her bows here). Anyway, this was lost in the bowels of my computer. We all hope you enjoy._

**A Shrine By Any Other Name**  
><strong>a Lester G. Santos (G stands for Guapo, baby)<strong>  
><strong>An AlfBluzkat Production**

I recently converted my closet to a shrine. Oh and I am proud of it, too. If the Home and Garden Television people ever wanted a model shrine, this is it. OK, this is it minus the grotto and statues of saints. I have actual items of worship and possibly even adoration.

How did I happen to build a shrine in my closet and who was it dedicated to?

It's like this. Steph has been a little low on funds lately and it was to my benefit. Then again, I seldom lose the upper hand, so to speak. No, I wouldn't take advantage of her _that__way_, but I would be able to use her misfortunes to my own benefit.

How? Easy, a couple of weeks ago, a bunch of us were discussing a museum display of Steph's old distraction outfits, a kind of a retrospective. I didn't think she'd ever let me actually have any of her outfits, and I knew her panties were just a pipe dream (so to speak), but a man has to have ambitions.

The whole thing started as a gag but then it took on a life of its own.

I overheard her complaining on the phone to one of her girlfriends that she needed new underthings for a distraction that night. She had the outfit, the shoes and the thigh-highs, but no good panties or bra to go with it.

"Mary Lou, I know nobody sees them but me. You don't have to remind me that no one else knows what my panties look like." Pause. "Yeah I know Lenny sees yours all the time but Granny panties aren't really my thing." Pause. "The good ones got ripped last time when I fell. Don't ask." Pause. "How much? More than I've got right now. I just don't feel like I'm ready to do my best if I've got old cotton undies, you know." Pause. "I'll just have to make it do or cut a pair up and pretend. I gotta go, I'm on the clock. Talk to you."

She disconnected her call and was about to leave the sanctuary she thought she had in the break room.

I walked in and invaded her space, my favorite thing.

"Hey Steph, heard a little birdie say you were strapped for cash."

"Story of my life, Lester. What of it?"

"I've got a proposition for you that's win-win," I said. I don't think my smile could've gotten any bigger than if I'd been offered to judge a pie eating contest.

"I'm not liking the sound of that, not at all," she said as she tried to leave the room.

"It's on the up and up, if you get my meaning," I said as I crossed my heart.

She said nothing, just crossed her eyes.

"Hear me out," I said.

"I've got to get back or my inbox is going to cause a flood all over the fifth floor," she said.

"Fine, come to my apartment tonight after your shift and be prepared to deal. It'll be good, I promise," I said. I made sure she realized I'd said 'it'll be good' and not 'I'll be good' a very important distinction in my way of seeing things.

"I'll think about it," she said.

I knew I'd gotten her curiosity peaked and she'd be in to see me at 6:00.

She showed up just like I knew she would. Her own curiosity would always get the better of her. When the knock came at my door, I was more than ready to see her.

"Come on in, beautiful. Get you something to drink while you take a load off?" I asked.

"Sure, got a Corona?"

"Nah. How about Dos Equis or Samuel Adams?" I asked.

"Dos Equis, I guess," she said.

"So now that you're here, let's talk turkey," I said.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying Les. You already know that," she said wearily.

"You haven't even begun to hear me out," I said as I passed her the opened beer. "The way I see it, we are in a position to help each other."

She looked at me like she was about to bolt. Great. This was the look I usually got the morning after when I'd called some chick by the wrong name. Fuck.

"Got to go, Les," she said rising from the sofa. "Thanks for the brew."

"Steph, stay. It's not that bad, I promise," I said. Looking back, I realized that I was whining like a little girl, but lots of little girls get what they want, don't they?

She perched on the edge of my couch looking like she'd run given the chance. I couldn't block her in without risking it getting back to Ranger. It was time to start talking and time to sound convincing about it.

"Now, Beautiful, let me put all my cards on the table," I said. I gave her my award winning and most sincere little-boy smile.

"Still not buying it," she said looking into her beer.

"Can we keep this just between us?" I asked. I knew that I could draw her in this way and gain her trust we might be of benefit to each other. If I gained her trust, I might just be able to gain something else that was actually more important to me. And she would be cash money ahead.

"You have my word, cross my heart," she said.

"I need a serious commitment," I stuck out my pinky for the official pinky swear. We only used the pinky swear on the important things like Tastykake runs and my turning off the GPS when we were together so she could just take a quick look at a pair of pumps that were on sale.

"OK, pinky swear," she said extending her pinky to me.

I knew I had her now. She was honor bound and she wouldn't laugh or run out of the apartment like I'd tried to get my hands up her shirt.

"My mojo has been a little off lately," I said quietly.

"What exactly does _your_ mojo have to do with me?" she asked.

"It doesn't _exactly_ have to do with you, but you improve it," I said.

Great. She now thinks I'm certifiable. Probably I am but I don't want her realizing quite that.

"Time for me to go. Good luck with your mojo problem." She stood to leave.

"I need a pair of your old panties," I blurted out.

"You what? Now I am so out of here, Lester." She all but toppled the beer bottle in her hurry to leave.

"No really. I mean whenever I take you shopping for your distraction outfits, I'm the only one who will wait with you while you comparison shop at Victoria's Secret. I have always given you my honest and humble opinion on what won't show through your outfit and what would drive a man crazy if he ever saw it."

She nodded.

It was going better than I thought. I hadn't been slapped yet and she was still in the room.

"Anyway, whenever we shop together, I have better than my usual luck with the ladies," I said.

She continued to nod.

"Since you've had this downturn in finances, I can't get laid more than three times a week and I feel like I'm going to die of terminal blue balls."

"Not helping you with that problem, Lester."

"That's not what I'm asking. You'd probably stun me and Ranger would do worse," I said. "I want to take you shopping. I want to help you buy what you can't afford yourself. After you've used them and laundered them, they would become mine."

"Just how much are we talking about here?"

My heart soared, it was still beating inside my body and that was more than I had previously hoped for.

"Fourteen. That's all I have to say to you, fourteen."

"Fourteen what? Panties, g-strings, bras, camisoles. Fourteen what?"

"Any of it. All of it. I'm dying, can't you see?" I really was, I hadn't been laid or had any relief in almost thirty-six hours. I was miserable.

"What do I get out of the deal?" she asked.

"Oh beautiful, you would make a miserable man happy. You would give purpose to my life. You ensure I put the smile on the faces several lovelies who might otherwise not have known the Santos Sexual Experience."

"Sounds like you are charging admission for the Santos Experience," she said. "Do you have a program for anyone who goes along for the ride?"

"I have had women leave money on the dresser for me after it was over," I said in honesty.

"Other than knowing you and your johnson will find great happiness, what do I get out of it?" she asked.

Why is it with some women it is always 'what's in it for me?' I really didn't think she was that way.

"Fine. Fourteen for me, and I'll buy you duplicates. You get one set that's new for you to keep, and I get the set right after you've worn them."

"And had them properly laundered," she said.

"Sure Ella will wash 'em for you."

"Not trusting you to get them to Ella. You probably have your own laundry chute set up for these so they bypass her and you do … whatever it is you are going to do with them."

I could almost feel the relief. Almost.

"Three sets. Three bras with matching panties. That's my best offer," she said.

"Five and I'll buy you two sets that I won't have duplicates of."

"Deal," she said.

"Not quite. We haven't gotten to the best part."

"Oh God."

"I keep all the new lingerie. I'll dole them out to you, you predetermine which ones you want to wear, then we trade new for old."

"Sorry, price is too high."

"Three sets that I don't even see, but pay for. Please?"

"Fine. But if you tell Ranger about this I'll deny it and let him think you have a fetish of some kind. You don't do you?"

I just smiled and looked innocent. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt me, well not much.

God, I hope her finances never straighten out.

* * *

><p>Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.<p> 


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